


Break His Legs, and Bring You Pie

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pie, Protective Castiel, Single Parent Castiel, Slice of Life, neighbors to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: Dean's past has never been up for discussion between them. As far as he's concerned, his life began the first day that Cas had invited him over for dinner.





	

Waking up to the sounds of Claire giggling and playing by herself in the next room over is such a distinct kind of happiness for Dean.

It's like something extra special, because it's something Dean truly never, ever thought he would be able to have: to be a part of family like this, to have easy mornings in bed where the only thing that pulls you from sleep is sunshine on your face. 

He rolls over and rubs at his eyes, and Cas is sitting there in the morning sun, almost glowing with how warm and happy he looks, and Dean has to stab his calf with his toenail to make sure it's all truly real. That it's not a dirty trick inside his mind. 

Cas smiles wide and flashes his perfect teeth at Dean. He's already leaning in for his morning kiss when he murmurs, "Hello, stranger."

Their lips tangle in a way that's long and slow, hands sliding up and down torsoes, wrapping around smooth hips bones and grabbing onto plush skin. Dean moans loudly into the embrace, and Cas pulls away with a soft chuckle. Dean whimpers at the loss of contact.

"You're so cute in the morning." Cas brushes their noses together.

Dean can only smile shyly and offer a "You're pretty alright yourself."

What he wants to tell Cas is that he is cute morning, afternoon, and night; around and after both sunrise and sunset; when he breathes or blinks or does anything at all. But he thinks that is probably a bit much, so he keeps that zipped up behind his lips.

But Cas is cute. Or handsome-- rugged, even. He's got a quite few years on Dean, and he somewhere around thirty he had learned to carry himself with a weightless air that just exhuded confidence and maturity. Sometimes Dean looks at him and the only word that comes to mind is " _Damn_." And he's more than his looks. So very much more. 

Dean thinks that he's as happy as a person can be. He thinks that this is what love supposed to feel like.

But then again, Dean doesn't have much experience with happiness. Or with love, for that matter, of any kind. Not romantic love. Definitely not familial love.

"Hey," Cas whispers, laying a hand of Dean's cheek and turning it in to face him. "What are you thinking?"

Dean breathes out and shakes his head. "Just that I'm happy. That this morning feels like a good one."

Claire is still playing with her dolls in her bedroom next to Cas'. He listens to her chattering and feels a surge in his heart.

"Oh yeah?" probes Cas, a teasing kind of lilt in his voice. "You think so?"

Dean goes to nod but he's interrupted once more by Cas' lips. He allows himself to be pulled down for another kiss, enjoying the feel of the sheets against his skin, the lazy arousal that slowly courses through his body.

"Well, I'm about to make your morning even better," Cas says in a hot breath on Dean's lips. Their mouths are floating in the same shared space, millimeters away from each other and the air is thick. Dean doesn't answer at all, allowing his silence to invite Cas to continue.

"I'm not cooking breakfast," is the end of the thought, whispered hotly in that space, and both Dean and Cas pull backward a bit to huff out a chuckle.

"Thank God," Dean comments when he regains his breath. "I don't know if I could stomach any more chewy bacon this week."

Cas smacks at him with his free arm, but Dean ducks out of the way. Then he sidles up into Dean's side and strokes lazy patterns onto his skin with nimble fingertips. "Mmhmm," he goes on, nipping little bites at the skin of Dean's tummy. "We're going to go to that diner with the pecan pie you love."

"Oh man." Dean sits up, a look something like nostalgia taking over his face. "That pie is so good."

And maybe it's the haze of a good morning that's got him feeling a little something extra, or that way Cas makes him feel like he's always got a safety blanket wrapped around him. Whatever the reason, Dean finds himself rambling on, "It reminds me of this one diner back home. Man, I used to hide out at that place every day after school when I was a kid. I swear, they had a lemon meringue that'd change your life."

He feels himself drifting then, going back a bit in the rabbit hole of his memories. He's almost forgotten where he is when he hears Cas pipe up.

His voice is wary, like he very conscience of the boundaries he shouldn't overstep. "You don't ever talk about home."

Dean pretends he didn't hear that, let his eyes slip closed a second while he resists the urge to drift even further.  

"How come you don't go back? It's not too far, you could make a weekend--"

"No."

That is all Dean cares to say about that. Cas seems to sense that the issue is not to be pressed: his lips form into a hard line and he turns his face away.

Dean's past has never been up for discussion between them. As far as he is concerned, his life began the first day that Cas had invited him over for dinner.

Well, he hadn't 'invited' so much as insisted. He said that the kid looked like he hadn't eaten a home-cooked meal in years, and-- well yeah, that was true. But Dean had tried to politely refuse many times over. It wasn't that he thought Cas was a particular nefarious person. On the contrary, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and it was easy to see that he adored the little girl who shared the apartment next to Dean's with him. But Dean had been deceived before. He wasn't about to put himself up to that again. 

But then Cas had sent Claire over to beg him with those big blue eyes she had and-- well, what was Dean supposed to do with that?

So then he'd gone over and sat down for dinner with the two of them and he got to learn all about them. And terribly enough, the more he sat and listened and laughed, he found that he really loved being in the presence of the Novak duo.

He also found out that of the many wonderful qualities Cas possesses, a decent cooking ability was not one. He had served them spaghetti and meatballs, because it was Claire's favorite, and Dean had had to crunch his way through a whole plate of undercooked pasta with a smile. 

Anyways, that was a few months ago now; but for Dean, he would perfectly content if he never thought of a single memory before that day ever again.

He can feel eyes burning a hole in him, so he carefully looks down to where Cas's head rests on his chest. His eyes are so clear, but so full, like he's trying to say a million things to Dean with just one look.

_I would never make you say, but I wish you would say, and I want you to be comfortable enough to share with me but also know that I'm okay not knowing but I'm curious but also afraid and I just want you to know that I'd do anything to make it okay_.

Weirdly enough, he gets this look a lot from Cas. It's hard to believe it most of the time: that someone who has it all together the way Cas does would bother to give a shit was is going on inside Dean's weird, self-depracating, useless brain.

Dean doesn't know what makes him say it (that's starting to be a familiar feeling) but somehow he finds himself sitting up with his back to heardboard and looking at Cas with a certain intensity. "Look. Here's all I'm going to say about it: my dad was a dick. A low-down rotten kind of guy, and my childhood was not anything you could call "happy". I left home pretty much the day I turned twenty, and I am sure as shit never getting anywhere near that podunk piece of dirt again for as long as I live. Okay?"

He is not going to say anything else. He's not going to list the names his dad would call him-- _stupiduglyuselessnogoodungratefulpieceof_ \-- scream at him until he was blue in the face. Wouldn't mention the times he would shove him up against a wall, pin him there with a sick, syrupy smile on his face, and then act like it didn't happen. Wouldn't talk about the time he'd dropped a hot casserole pan on Dean's feet just to hear the noises he'd make.

He is purposely keeping his mind blank and his expression calm. He cannot go there in his mind, not today. So it's all he can do to focus on the now, what is right here in front of him.

To think how lucky Claire is that she has Cas as her dad, and how it makes him so happy to watch them together. Cas loves that little girl more than anything in this world, and he'd would do anything to put a smile on her face.

When he first started spending a significant amount of time at their apartment, Dean worried that he might have some underlying feeling of jealousy at watching the two of them. He was amazed (and relieved) to find that nothing would have been further from the truth. 

He feels the brush of a hand on his forearm and his eyes dart up. Cas' face is right next to his, inches away, but soft, trying to let him know that he's here for Dean.

Words catch in Dean's throat. He doesn't know how to speak, so he only listens when Cas does.

"I want you to know," he says slowly, placing one hand on each side of Dean's face and stroking his thumb gently over the jawline, "that if you wanted me to-- even slightly indicated that you wanted it-- that I would drive down there myself and I would break his god damn legs."

If possible, Dean's face goes even more blank at that. No one has ever offered anything like that before. 

"And then I'd swing by that diner and bring you home a slice of that lemon meringue pie."

Cas presses the softest kiss imaginable onto Dean's lips. Dean's eyes are open while he does, but his chest is starting to feel tight like his heart is trying its damndest to make a surreptitious escape. 

He's not sure if he has words for the kind of feeling that Cas' offer give him. So he just says, "I love you, too." 

And before Cas has any time to respond, he pulls the covers off and hops out of the bed. "Pecan pie sounds fine by me. Now come on, let's go grab that kid of yours and take her for pancakes, hm? 

Cas' smile this time is a little bit more lopsided, but no less earnest. "Yes. Let's do that." 

So Dean marches over into Claire's room and scoops her up from her game, relishing in the yelping laughter that comes from her when she's hoisted into the air. He carries her into Cas' room and throws her onto the comforter, where Cas pulls her in for a truly viscious tickle attack.

The more he thinks about it, he more he's certain that yes: this is definitely what happiness is supposed to feel like. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is like my third dadstiel story and I'm sorrynotsorry because I LIVE for domestic bliss and happy endings.


End file.
